


Kinetic Attraction

by spanishjohn



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-09
Updated: 2012-06-09
Packaged: 2017-11-06 13:37:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/419502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spanishjohn/pseuds/spanishjohn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You know it’s got to be something.</p><p>Perhaps it might be the way he’ll glance at you over the top of his shades without even realising he’s doing it. You don’t say anything, afraid he’ll pay closer attention next time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kinetic Attraction

Perhaps it might be the way he moves so incredibly gracefully. As if every step was planned, every hand motion, every head tilt thought out carefully. Almost like if they were to be interrupted, life’s purpose would end or perchance never be discovered.  
  
And you’ve seen the gestures interrupted, a hand frozen awkwardly when both of you reach out for the same thing or when he leans into the couch and stretches his arm over the back but _oh wait John’s head is there_. You smile, admiring how thrown off he is in that initial moment of wondering what happened (he still has his usual blank expression, never letting go of his cool), to which the same reply can always be expected: “The fuck you laughing at, Egbert?” and that only makes you actually laugh.  
  
You know it’s got to be something.  
  
Perhaps it might be the way he’ll glance at you over the top of his shades without even realising he’s doing it. You don’t say anything, afraid he’ll pay closer attention next time – if that happens, who knows when you’ll see those lovely bright red eyes again. And then you start to think that maybe you won’t just miss the eyes themselves, but rather the way he angles his face _just so_ that allows you to catch a glimpse of what most would never see in their lives.  
  
Or perhaps it’s the way he smirks – never a smile, only a slight twist of a corner that intrigues you that fascinates you that on some days you think you might die to see again. You begin to find yourself trying to elicit that slight expression, which always comes after one of your awkward moments (especially when you freak out, and even more especially when you find someone’s sneaked Betty Crocker into the same room as you, he gets a real kick out of watching that; “jesus, Egbert, calm down, it’s some baked goods, not a weapon of mass destruction”).  
  
But you think the thing you love the most is the way he walks. There’s a certain…smooth quality to it. He’s got a lithely adroitness about him, you’ve noticed as you’ve more or less studied his walk. You don’t actually _mean_ to do it, but you’re captivated in an unexplainable way by the juxtaposition of the confidence and what some might say the nerve to strut around acting like his shit smells sweeter than anyone else’s. But you know he doesn’t think like that, not at all, you’ve learned his quirks and his habits; you’ve been around him for so long you can almost damn near read his mind. You know that he doesn’t “strut”, he saunters – relaxed and simply not caring because he’s a Strider and Striders don’t care much at all.  
  
You figure if it’s anything, it’s got to be that.  
  
But, you know, you’re never entirely sure of what exactly it is about Dave Strider that has just taken you so completely by storm. You don’t know what it is about him that finds ways to build you up and yet make you so self-conscious that you’ll be broken down any second. There’s always something new you notice every day having you enticed, mesmerised, enthralled, infatuated, attracted, obsessed, consumed, hooked. Today it’s his walk; tomorrow could be his hand running through that blond hair you imagine is softer than anything you’ve ever felt (if only he’d let you test that theory), or the way a cigarette hangs loosely between his lips when he’s concentrating on whatever he’s got going on (you keep nagging at him to quit, but he just tells you to “mind your own damn business, Egbert”, and you don’t really _want_ him to stop because sweet jesus he looks _good_ doing it).  
  
And then you suddenly find yourself sick of all this questioning, this wondering, this lust that can’t be explained can’t be put into words. You find yourself so sick of it that, one night, you’re passing him in the hallway and _simply can’t take it anymore_ so you slam him into the wall without even thinking rationally anymore; your lips join in an action that is anything but controlled, you can taste smoke and apple juice and some unplaceable trace _oh god why didn’t you do this sooner_ –  
  
Suddenly you’re the one who’s slamming into the opposite wall, Dave still across from you, but holy shit – you’ve actually left him speechless, motionless, shocked. The both of you stand, staring wide-eyed at each other (well, at least you are, you’ve no idea about him), neither of you knowing what to do next (again, only an assumption for him). You begin to form an apology _I didn’t mean to if you’re mad that’s perfectly understandable forgive me bro it won’t happen again_ , but then you notice the guy’s fucking laughing. Here it is, the sound you’ve been longing to hear, and now you’ve heard it you know it’s the single most captivating sound you’ve ever heard; is he actually grinning too?  
  
“Shit, Egbert. If you’re going to sneak up on a guy like that, at least know how to kiss him right.”  
  
“Wait…you’re actually okay with this?” you ask, tentatively, expecting to be shot down right as you’re completely vulnerable.  
  
Another laugh, another fit of something swirling around in your stomach (is this what they call butterflies?). Dave’s actions speak for themselves – in one smooth swoop he’s on you now, his hands on your neck tilting your face up to meet his, and he pauses for a small moment as your foreheads touch ever so slightly either in hesitation or teasing. So it turns out that you’re the one who closes the gap and this kiss is so much deeper and so much sweeter than the last but then a nagging thought worms its way into your mind somehow through the feeling of satisfaction and desire, making you pull back first to say, breathlessly, “Okay, wait…Dave, I….Are you sure this is okay?”  
  
“Why wouldn’t it be?”  
  
“Well, it’s just….This sort of thing’s never really happened with me before and I don’t want something to go wrong, I mean, we’re friends and I wouldn’t want something like this to –” Just as you realise you’re rambling, Dave cuts you off with a quick peck on the lips. You laugh sheepishly, completely forgetting what it is you were trying to say because all you can think about now is the warmth surrounding you, leaning into him and resting your head on his shoulder taking in the scent of ironically cheap cologne and suddenly things just feel right all at once because you’re in the arms of Dave Strider and that in and of itself is a dream.


End file.
